


Like Real People Do

by Lightning_Strikes_Twice



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Filling in some gaps, Mentions of Character Death, Mostly Sweet, Post-Canon, a little angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21517945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_Strikes_Twice/pseuds/Lightning_Strikes_Twice
Summary: Filling in canon gaps (and post-canon musings) about first time "I love you"s and pet names. Chapters go (sort of) in order, used prompt "Love? Is that what they call you now?" for chapters 1&3.Manon and Dorian have been through so much, let them be sweet, ok?Fair warning: chapters switch tenses (sorry!)Title: "Like Real People Do" by Hozier
Relationships: Manon Blackbeak/Dorian Havilliard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	1. "Morning, love"

They’d been traveling for weeks. 

Days on wyverns in the skies, nights camped in various settings: forest clearings, caves they came across, rocky outcroppings up mountain paths. 

Weeks of sleeping on rocky ground and cycling through watch shifts and training during “rest” days. Weeks with only their small band for company.

Needless to say, tensions ran high.

They made every effort to stay clear of inhabited territories, staying miles from the small villages that cropped up along the mountains. But, every so often they stayed close enough that those not on watch would leave the circle of tents at dusk and stumble back around dawn, reeking of blood and sex and fear, tension in their shoulders gone and a glaze in their eyes that held them over for the next few days. 

As for Manon, she told herself it was the tension that had her seeking out the young king that traveled with them. Told herself it was a distraction as she again found herself in his tent. Told herself it was merely in her nature as her witches found their release in fucking and bleeding men in nearby towns and she found hers astride the blue-eyed king of Adarlan. 

A distraction. A release. That’s all. 

And yet.   
And yet she found herself lingering longer in his tent each time, lingering after the waves of pleasure left her loose and calmed, lingering and allowing him to hold her against him, lingering in the warmth that smelled of their desire, yes, but also of something almost like comfort. Lingering until her eyes closed and breathing slowed in time with his, a vulnerability no man had ever seen from Manon Blackbeak. 

It was when she opened her eyes and realized she’d never left his tent during the night, grey sunlight now filtering through the fabric, that she realized she’d crossed a line. She was instantly aware of the arm slung around her waist, and the low, steady breathing from behind her. She’d never been held as she slept, never allowed another to share her bed once she’d taken her pleasure from them. Her skin prickled. 

Slipping from under Dorian’s arm, she found her shirt and the pants of her riding leathers, threw them on and left the tent for the cool dawn still breaking outside. 

Just as her Second and Third made their way past. 

Shit. 

Asterin raised a brow as she met Manon’s eyes. Her gaze flicked pointedly from where Manon stood, shirt hastily buttoned and white hair no doubt a mess, to the tent behind her. Manon knew she could scent who was still inside. 

“Stayed the night?” For anyone else, the comment would have earned them an iron-clawed smack across the face for their brazenness. But Manon only scowled at her cousin. She opened her mouth to reply just as the flap of the tent behind her snapped open and Dorian wandered out. 

His dark curls stuck up at odd angles and he looked for all the world as though he still might be half asleep. If he registered the other two witches standing before him, he didn’t show it as he walked up behind Manon, placed his hands on her hips and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Morning, love,” he mumbled, turning and making his way beyond the tents to the edge of the clearing, oblivious to the three shocked stares that followed him. 

Manon knew her cheeks were heating, knew that a vivid blue now painted her face. Knew that she’d rather face Morath’s entire Ironteeth legion alone than turn around and face the expressions on Asterin and Sorrel’s faces. 

Asterin’s taunting giggle broke the silence, only growing louder at Sorrel’s hissed warning of “Asterin!”

Around the camp, witches were growing curious as Asterin’s laughter continued. Edda and Briar poked their heads out of their tents to see what the commotion was about. Fallon and Faline, just coming back to the camp, blood-drunk with stained hands and faces, paused on their way to their tent, leaning on one another and smiling their demon smiles, watching. 

“Asterin, shut up.” Sorrel was now glancing between a doubled-over Asterin and a glaring Manon, not quite sure if she needed to step in. 

“Love!” Asterin practically shrieked, “Love! Is that what he calls you now?” Manon snarled viciously enough to make her Second take a few steps back and bite her lip, but the giggles remained. The demon twins joined in cackling, even Vesta couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. 

Dorian was not likely to forget the sight that awaited him as he returned to the camp, eyes clearer and thoughts more lucid, the last hints of sleep gone from his mind. Thirteen pairs of eyes met his, including a livid pair of gold and several laughing star-flecked black. Dorian blanched, confused, and as he was sure they could all register, more than a little intimidated. That is, until Faline drawled “Morning, love, sleep well?” and all hell broke loose.

Asterin lost it all over again as Manon launched herself at the twins and Sorrel rolled her eyes and made her way towards her tent. Vesta, reading the confusion on his face, patted him on the shoulder as she passed. “Good luck, young king, good luck.”


	2. "I love you" (Take 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who says "I love you" first! 
> 
> Warning: this one's a bit sad. Post final battle in Orynth.

No one really knows how to handle the aftermath in Orynth. There’s no more immediate threat of dying and suddenly, trying to make sense of the world just seems too hard. Mundane. There’s still gore rotting in the fields beyond the city walls, scorch marks on the plains. Bloodstains. The battles are over but there’s still the wounded, the dying. The dead. But for those left standing, there is also joy. The darkness is gone and above the wailing cries of the grieving there is celebration. A world reborn in flames. Hope. 

No one calls it a party. It seems too soon. No, instead it’s the living gathered together within the castle, drinking whatever stores of liquor they can find and toasting the living and the dead and the generations to come with hollow eyes but smiling faces. 

Dorian stays as long as he can stand it. Drinks with his friends, watches Chaol beam as Yrene is asked to tell again and again how Erewan exploded when Silba’s light filled him. Yrene only smiles. There are dark circles under her eyes and Chaol hasn’t walked in days. She’d drained, but they’re happy. They’re alive.

He catches Aelin’s eye and sees her smile for the first time in what feels like years. It’s a strained smile, a tired one, and one filled with anxiety about what is to come. But she is alive. They’re all alive. It is more than either of them hoped for. 

There is one face that Dorian cannot find. That he knows he will not find here. Not amongst the crowd. But he knows where to go. 

The castle has no aerie, at least, not an official one. But in the weeks of battle several of the higher towers were cleared out and used to house the wyverns and their riders. The noise of the crowd dims with each flight of steps Dorian climbs. The heavy wooden door at the top of the highest tower is left ajar, no sound of rustling wings or scrape of claws from beyond. Only quiet dusk. The door makes no sound as he eases it open, but he knows she knows he’s there. 

Manon sits with her back to him, leaning on the only wyvern in the aerie. The last rays of the setting sun glint off the spidersilk grafted to Abraxos’s wings. Witch and wyvern watch the sun’s descent behind the mountains in the distance. When Dorian enters, Abraxos twists his head to look at him. There is a deep sadness in the beast’s eyes. Dorian knows better than to ignore the subtle nod of Abraxos’s head in Manon’s direction, he’s spent enough time with the wyverns to know “do something,” when he sees it. 

He doesn’t make it three steps into the room before she speaks. Low and rough, like she hasn’t spoken in days and her voice has forgotten how to work. 

“You should be celebrating with them.”

“And you should be sleeping. When was the last time you slept?”

She turns to look at him then, deep blue shadows blooming under dead, glazed eyes. No spark in that vibrant gold. “I do not know. I do not care.”

Dorian makes it the rest of the way across the room, trying to ignore the beseeching glance from Abraxos. He pats the wyvern’s side as he slides down to join Manon on the floor. 

“Have you at least eaten anything?”

Manon only snorts and closes her eyes again. It’s then that Dorian notices the bottle clasped in her hand, balanced on her thigh. Maybe a mouthful of deep amber sloshes along the bottom of the bottle. 

“Did you drink all of that?” 

Manon doesn’t open her eyes. Her lips curl in a humorless smile. “It tastes awful.”

“Manon, look at me.”

She sighs, but opens her eyes, turns her head. Gold eyes meet sapphire. Exhausted, broken, empty gold eyes. But eyes that focus on him easily nonetheless. Definitely not drunken eyes. 

“How…?” Dorian’s gaze flicks from hers down to the bottle resting against her leg and back up again. She doesn’t even bother trying to smile this time, just sighs. 

“I have never had much use for mortal drink. Have never tried. But I know it makes humans forgetful. Numb. I thought perhaps…..” Her voice drifts away, as if the effort of speaking has become too much, and her eyes slip to the horizon again. The sun is gone, dipped behind the mountains, leaving a glowing halo over the peaks. “I cannot dull it. It seems the effects do not work for me,” she murmurs, almost as if she has forgotten that he’s there, speaking more to herself. Abraxos whines and dips his head to nudge her. She absently scratches his head, still staring off at nothing. “I know it is foolish,” her voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and shaky, “but part of me still expects them to come flying back. A part of me thinks that perhaps if I sleep, I will wake up and this will all have been some terrible dream.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and Dorian’s heart shatters at the crack in her voice. “I cannot sleep because I cannot bear to wake to this nightmare that I know will not go away.” 

Abraxos drops his head into her lap, blinking up at both she and Dorian, despair evident in his eyes. Dorian slowly slides an arm around her, easing her head onto his shoulder as he strokes her hair. She doesn’t tense at the touch, only melts into him, eyes still closed, breathing unsteady. She stays like that for a long time, until the sky deepens to purple and the stars begin to blink awake. Dorian holds her, unsure of what to say, knowing there is nothing he can say. 

Finally, she pulls back, blinking at him. “You came back.”  
At first he doesn’t understand. But then realization hits him. “I’m sorry I left. Truly.”

She only nods, fixing him with a stare more vulnerable than he’d ever seen from her. These are not the eyes of a heartless creature born and bred to kill. No, this stare is full of regret, utter despair, and pleading in a way that makes his heart ache. This was a witch grasping onto the last thread of stability she can find. “Stay.”

He knows she doesn’t mean just then, just tonight. He meets her stare, promising with all the magic within him, “I’m not going anywhere. I swear.” He takes her hand, brushing his lips across her palm. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes flash at that. Shoulders stiffen just slightly. It is too soon, and they both know it, but she only nods again, accepting his promise. She does not speak any more, but lets him hold her as the night creeps in, as Abraxos falls asleep with them both leaned against him. She lets him hold her until her eyes finally start to drift shut. Lets him hold her as Dorian’s breathing slows to match hers, the even rhythm lulling them both to a dreamless sleep; for now, keeping the nightmares at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Like what you read? Come chat on tumblr @lightning-strikes-twice


	3. "I will be back before you can miss me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happier this time! 
> 
> Post-canon shenanigans

“You could stay longer you know,” he said as she turned to go. The last of the official trade meetings done, the deals made, lines decided, most of the royals and rulers of the continent had already departed. The queen of Terrassen left earlier that morning, accompanied by the few court members she’d brought with her. 

Only the witches, the Queen and her two advisers, remained in Adarlan. 

Manon faced Dorian with a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “And suffer through more boring meetings about your mortal kingdoms’ concerns? I think not.”

Dorian stepped closer, sliding his arms around her waist. “Oh, I think if you stayed you’d be anything but bored, witchling.”

On her wyvern next to them, Petrah wisely pretended not to hear, and Bronwen, to her credit, became very interested in the buckles on her saddle.

Manon’s eyes flashed in annoyance at his brazenness, but she did not try to pull out of his grasp. His smirk faded and his gaze became softer as it held hers. “I mean it, you could stay.”

Manon sighed, they’d been through this, but that didn’t make it easier. She reached up to cup his face in her hands. “We both know I cannot. I have a kingdom just as you do. My place is there as yours is here.”

“Come visit then,” Dorian tugged her hips closer, and the witch Queen couldn’t hide her smile. Not from the two witches behind her, nor from the King’s Hand waiting just beyond the reach of the wyverns. He still didn’t trust her or her witches. She could smell his wariness even now, sense his unease. 

“Soon,” Golden eyes met sapphire, and Dorian smiled. “I will be back before you can even miss me, love.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in time with his grin. It wasn’t until Manon registered the choked sound of surprise from Petrah that she realized what she’d said. That word. Darkness embrace her. 

Her cheeks heated instantly, and she knew she was turning an absurd shade of blue. She opened her mouth, closed it again, unsure of what to say. Dorian, damn him, let out a triumphant laugh. “I knew it!”

Manon silently begged all three faces of the goddess to let her fall off the tower they were all standing on and die. But Dorian just leaned in close, pressed his forehead to hers, and whispered for her ears only, “I love you too, witchling.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before releasing her waist and stepping back, laughter still tugging at his mouth. 

Setting her shoulders, Manon turned and swung herself up onto Abraxos, pointedly ignoring Petrah’s raised eyebrows and Bronwen’s muffled snort. She flicked her lids down and kicked off into the sky without so much as a backwards glance. As Abraxos leveled out and the three wyverns headed for the West, Manon’s cheeks still burned brilliant blue, but a small smile had crept its way onto her lips. 

Back on the tower, Dorian watched the wyverns grow smaller and smaller on the horizon. He didn’t even notice Chaol next to him until he cleared his throat, making Dorian jump. 

“So. Love. Is that what she calls you now?” 

“You heard that, huh?” Dorian couldn’t keep the grin from his voice.

“I’m convinced you are truly trying to kill me.” 

Dorian burst out laughing again, swinging his arm around Chaol’s shoulders as he turned. “Be as dramatic as you want, but you’re my witness. My witchling loves me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Like what you read? Come chat on tumlbr @lightning-strikes-twice


	4. "I love you" (Take 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's turn it is to say it...
> 
> I really just need them to be cute with each other. That's all.

When the prickling sensation of being watched finally becomes too much to ignore, Dorian looks up from his book. Manon leans against a bookshelf, staring at him. 

“What?” 

Manon simply cocks her head, as if trying to piece together a riddle. “You enjoy reading immensely.” 

Dorian’s brow furrows. That wasn’t a question, yet she still looks like she’d trying to figure something out as she stares at him. “Yes?”

“Why?” 

Dorian blinks. “Well. Um. I don’t know? I just do? It’s nice to get away sometimes and books are a good way to do that, I guess.”

“How?”

Now he grins. “Have you never read a book before, witchling?”

Manon frowns. “I have not had much time for….. Idle activities. But you become so engrossed. It is fascinating to watch.”

“Watching someone read can’t be that fun.”  
“No, I suppose you are right.”

Dorian’s smile grows, and he’s up and moving down one of the many shelved isles of the library before she can ask what he’s up to. “Wait there!” he calls “I have an idea!”

He returns with a book with a cover worn and faded, the leather binding cracked from years and years of rereading. “This,” he plops back down in his chair and pulls her with him so that she’s perched in his lap, “is one of my favorites. We’re going to read it together.” 

Manon arches a brow at him, but says nothing. Only leans back against him as he opens the book and begins to read to her. 

And so Dorian slowly begins to show Manon the world he’s loved since childhood. He reads her his favorites, books that he’s reread so many times the worn, smudged pages fall out of the binding. They find time each day to explore new stories, often hiding away among the shelves in the library, or sprawled in bed ignoring responsibilities. 

Dorian reads her tales of epic heroes, of brave knights, of monsters and legends, and battles and magic. They only make it through one tale of a knight sent to slay a dragon (“a mortal man alone cannot kill a dragon. It is simply not realistic”) and Manon scoffs at the tales of princesses locked in towers to be saved by heroes. But most days, while Dorian reads, Manon sits curled next to him, or in his lap, listening and laughing as he attempts to give the characters different voices. 

It is on a particularly rainy afternoon that they hide themselves away deep within the library. Manon sits with Dorian’s head in her lap as he lays across the sofa, completely entranced by the words he reads aloud to her. She strokes her fingers through his dark curls, smiling faintly down at him, watching his expressions change and his blue eyes sparkle as he reads. He pauses when he notices her stare. 

“What?”

“I love you.” The words tumble from her lips before she realizes she’s saying them. Her hand freezes in his hair, and her golden eyes go wide as she realizes the thought she’s voiced aloud. 

Dorian’s answering grin glows bright enough to chase away the rain clouds. He watches the blue creep into her cheeks, only grins wider at the blush. 

“Say it again,” he whispers. 

“I love you.” She’s surer this time. Less of a surprise, and more of a confirmation. “I do, I love you.” She marvels at the feel of the words in her mouth as she speaks them. 

He sits up to press a kiss to her lips, smiling against her before laying back across her lap and murmuring “I love you too, witchling.” 

A small smile creeps over her lips as he resumes reading, still grinning. She loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Like what you read? Come chat on tumblr @lightning-strikes-twice


End file.
